Description

Maleficent Dejana DeBrock

"Evil? No, that's strength."

Name: Maleficent Dejana DeBrock

Nickname: Mal

Age: 24

Origin Story: Sleeping Beauty

Character: Maleficent

Sexuality: Straight

Likes:

Dislikes:

Fears:

Hobbies:

Powers:
Mal does, of course, have the basic powers any witch would have, but over the years she has used them less and less, turning fully to the Dark Arts, which is meant to inflict harm and pain upon the victim. However, her magic can be conflicted by an exceptionally powerful good witch.

Strengths:

Flaws:

Personality:
Mal has a high envisionment of her self, very much so. One can easily consider her as conceited, self centered. That wouldn't be wrong, to be honest. She looks down upon others, who she considers unworthy of her time and consideration. She avoids most everyone else, for, as is suspectable, her conceitedness is not viewed kindly. Her few friends have earned her toleration in some way in her own eyes. Indeed, they are not much of "friends", moreso "aquaintances", although Mal denies it for personal gain.

Mal has a tendency to look upon those viewed higher than herself with jealousy. Her jealousy is not unbased, as she feels that the good in others is never displayed to her. She has tried, at many points in her life, to become what some would call "good", but gave up after facing ridicule from those who already beared the classification. Of course, now she follows the philosophy that there is no good, no evil, just weakness and strength. She bears her "evil" title with pride, honestly not being able to care less about the titles bestowed upon her.

Mal is extremely short tempered, a trait which is displayed through out her lifetime, often at her own expense. In her tempers, she becomes uncontrollable, though no one would believe it, as her actions in her tempers reflect her personality and treatment of others. When she had her magic, it would often become incontrollable when she reached this state, and she couldn't direct it. Well, she could, but she says she couldn't.

History:
Everyone thinks they know the story of Sleeping Beauty and Mal's curse. But they don't Not really. Here's what really happened:

In Mal's youth, hunters made frequent appearances throught the town she grew up in. Ata certain point, a king and queen offered seven of her fellow witches protection from the hunters. She, however, was offered none. The seven others were safe for the following years, while Mal was constantly dodging the witch hunters, jumping from home to home, town to town, struggling to live past their wrath. The worst part? She was in contact with the other seven throughout all this time, and they laughed at her, ridiculed her for not earning the protection of the king and queen, despite their "good" label.

Mal's fury blistered inside of her. When the young princess we know as The Sleeping Beauty was born, the seven others gave her gifts, as to repay the debt they owed the king and queen for their protective hands. Mal found this enfuriating, and she thought it was only fair to curse the child, as the king and queen never protected her. So she burst into the gift giving ceremony, paralyzing the guards temporarily in order to get to the young child. One of the seven good witches had yet to present her gift to the child, and Mal pushed her away, cursing the child to die before her sixteenthe birthday. As we know, the last witch used her gift to partially reverse this curse, instead making it so that the child would fall asleep for a hundred years.

As time flows differently in lands of magic, Mal only grew slightly older, having chosen to hide in the human realm until the child had been awoken. When she returned, it was to be expected that she was feared. Mary Poppins considered Mal a threat to peace and civilization, evil and at times irrational. The magic limitation spells were mostly because of Mal's evil reputation, to be completely honest. And, as though proving the point, Mal's anger flustered inside of her for years on end.

So begins...

Maleficent Dejana "Mal" DeBrock's Story

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Setting

Folksdale

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maleficent Dejana "Mal" DeBrock

Character Portrait: Michael Richard Banks

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#2013-08-23 10:45:08, as written by Issa

Time: 7.30am, Saturday
Weather: Fine, light breeze
High of 23ºC (73ºF)

Folksdale Morning Radio:
'Good morning Folksdale, I'm your morning host Jiminy and what an excellent morning it is. Beautiful blue sky, stunning outlook onto our fairytale town and the promise of a magical day to come. There's little to announce from the night, but today promises to be a stunner. Gepetto is having a sale on wooden figurines and Belle's Bookstore will be hosting a book signing with the award winning author of 'Lamps: 101 uses'. I've also been told to remind all our listeners to watch out for the bridge just past Spinners' Lane, it appears a troll has taken up residence beneath...'

Sunlight filtered through the white curtains, a gap in the hangings letting a single ray of golden sunlight spill into the room. It landed across Jane's eyes and acted as well as any buzzing alarm to tell the girl that it was time to rise. With a single groan of protest Jane pushed the blankets off her and sat up straight. She stretched, her arms out behind her back and then above her head. A moment later, sleep finally receding, she set her legs onto the carpeted floor and stood. A snap of her fingers flicked the light switch across the room up and the bulb turned on, illuminating the chaos of Jane's room. Clothes covered the majority of her floor, clean and dirty mixed indiscriminately. On her desk a spell book sat open surrounded by scribbled notes. Jane had been looking through the tome late last night, hoping to find any useful spells to help replace Mary Poppins' protective spells on the town.

A scratching at Jane's door alerted her to the presence of a persistent visitor. Another snap of her fingers saw the knob turn and the door opened. The visitor, the black and grey family cat, was old, tubby and probably thought that he ruled the house.
"Morning Thomas" Jane murmured as the cat wondered in. Thomas didn't deign to respond, instead he pranced over to Jane's bed, jumped up and immediately began to make himself comfortable. "Lucky for some" Jane muttered to the cat as she pulled off her pyjamas and swapped them for her running gear. Luckily the shirt, shorts and sneakers were all in a neat pile on her drawers and not amongst the mountain of clothing on her floor. Dressed, Jane left her room and wondered downstairs, dropping into the kitchen for a bottle of water and a light morning snack. Not seeing any of her family up yet Jane let herself out of the house quietly, grabbed her bike and pushed it out to the street.

The ride to Eddie's place was relatively short. Traffic was light early morning and the weather was fine. No doubt the day would prove a stunning one, even know Jane could see little sign of the weather turning fowl. The morning was bright, crisp and perfect for running, which was coincidentally what Jane was about to do. With a final pedal on her bike she cruised down the street before skidding to a stop outside Eddie's house and jumping onto the pavement. She pulled her bike up to the front of the house and let it rest beside the front door. Jane glanced at the watch on her wrist, 7.20 am exactly. Right on time. She hopped up to the front door and gave the frame a short, sharp rap. A squawk, that of an angry bird, answered followed by the sound of feet. Jane took a step back as the door opened and Eddie greeted Jane, a disgruntled parrot seated on his arm.

Eddie had been up for a few hours. His current roomate, a emerald green parrot named Murray, was a demanding fellow and required frequent assurances that everything was alright. Eddie, used to such sleepless nights, was more concerned that Murray's persistent squawks would wake the two humans that Eddie shared the house with. Eddie frequently brought sick animals home from the vets, ones that needed overnight observation. Most of them weren't quite as loud as Murray. Because of that Eddie was up and dressed before the sun rose, making breakfast for his human house mates as a way of saying sorry in case the parrot had pestered them overnight.

Bacon fried in the pan, eggs were being scrambled and Eddie had just finished buttering the toast. If the smell didn't rouse his flatmates he was sure that the sun beginning to stream through the house would. Nevertheless he had a plan B in case they couldn't pull themselves out of bed before the food went cold. Eddie placed the food on a plate and tucked it into the oven. Hopefully it would stay warm in there until they saw it, and if it was still there when Eddie came back from his run then he would just have to eat it himself. Eddie glanced at the kitchen clock, realised he had little time left and quickly scribbled a note for Sam explaining that he had left her breakfast. He even drew her a sad excuse for a dog beneath the note, knowing that she loved the animals.

A moment later, Murray hanging off one arm, Eddie answered the door to find his long time friend and running buddy waiting.
"Two secs." Eddie said before quickly dodging back into his room and gently placing Murray back in his cage. He arrived back at the front door to find Jane still in the same place,
"Something smells good." She commented as Eddie closed the front door behind him.
"Bacon and eggs." Eddie explained as the two began a gentle jog down the street, "With any luck they'll be some for us when we're done." He added.
"Definitely better than porridge." Jane giggled. Jane had always found it strange that Eddie's favourite food was porridge and she enjoyed teasing him about it. Eddie decided against replying, instead he simply pocked his tongue out and directed the pair down their usual track that would eventually lead them into and through the forest.

Setting

Folksdale

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#2013-08-25 21:17:39, as written by WendyDarling

Organizing a bookstore was like life--a delicate balance between beauty and functionality. On the one hand, scattered books and slightly askew shelves gave the place a sort of welcoming, lived-in look. On the other hand, an organized, spotless store was the most effective for finding exactly what a customer was looking for and appealed to those used to a bigger city way of life. Wendy preferred something in between the two, and the store owner had never objected. She organized everything, making sure to front and display especially the newer and more popular materials, but left little notes of discord everywhere. For example, the corner with a couch and several chairs, with small end tables ornamented by lamps with illustrations from children's tales, looked bare if too neat. A small but selective pile of books on each end table, made it look more welcoming, along with the pillows she plumped up for the couch.

The floor was scrupulously clean, the windows sparkling (thank goodness they had a service for that, Wendy thought, as it would drive her spare to keep the glass perfect on her own), the register perfectly balanced and ready for the day. The only thing left was to put up a few more signs for the event and arrange the table and chairs for the author's signing, which she did quickly and efficiently. This particular author had no special requests that she'd been notified of, but that could mean that either the publicist was taking care of that or that she would be surprised last minute. With an unwrinkled brow, Wendy glanced over a small black notebook that she kept behind the counter. In it was listed every service in town with a specific eye to the often eccentric needs of authors, and especially those services that delivered very quickly. It was always best to be prepared.

Wendy looked over the shop with pride. Everything in the store was exactly the way she wanted it. The only fly in the ointment was that there were going to be customers in and out all morning, disturbing her good work before the signing, but thankfully the event was in the afternoon rather than the evening. Taking a deep breath in and out, Wendy turned on the automatic tea kettle she kept hidden behind the counter and made herself a nice cup of tea. She took a delicate sip out of a delicate teacup, enjoying the flavor and the silence, as well as the organized space in front of her, before she went to turn the bookstore sign to "Open." And since it might very well be a quiet morning, she pulled out her notebook from a cupboard and continued a story she had been working on.

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